


From The Dark Past

by HunterusHeroicus93



Category: Lords of Chaos (2018), Mayhem (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Kidnapping, Mayhem doesn't exist, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 18:53:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18666322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HunterusHeroicus93/pseuds/HunterusHeroicus93
Summary: This story came from a dream I had. The Brain wouldn't let it go until I wrote it, so here it is.Always happy to get feedback, so please let me know what you think! <3Edited by the wonderful ThatOneWriter15. Go check out her work! Seriously.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story came from a dream I had. The Brain wouldn't let it go until I wrote it, so here it is.  
> Always happy to get feedback, so please let me know what you think! <3
> 
> Edited by the wonderful ThatOneWriter15. Go check out her work! Seriously.

Pelle Ohlin wandered idly down the street, quietly contemplating his life. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice the black car crawling along behind him. He didn’t hear it slow to a halt and the door click open. He barely had time to yelp before something hard collided with the side of his head and he slipped into darkness.   
  
***   
  
An uneasy feeling washed over him and he jolted awake, almost tumbling off the bed. He righted himself, and concentrated. His head hurt, and he felt sick. He must have fallen. But how did he get back to his bed, then? His eyes adjusted, and he realised that this was not, in fact, his own room.   
  
“What the fuck?” he whispered into the dark room.   
  
“Hey,” a voice whispered back. He jumped. A face loomed towards him and he scrambled backwards until he found a wall.   
  
“It’s okay,” the new person said gently. “I’m not going to hurt you. Are you okay?”   
  
“I, uh - My head.” Pelle raised his hand and touched the bump near his temple. He hissed as pain sparked through him.   
  
“It’ll be okay, it will go down soon. My name’s Lisa.” Lisa held out a hand, and Pelle shook it warily.   
  
“Pelle. Where are we?”   
  
“I don’t know. We haven’t been here very long, either.”   
  
“‘We’?” Pelle repeated. He looked around.   
  
“There are two others. Jan, and another boy. He doesn’t speak much. Won’t tell us who he is.”   
  
Pelle nodded. “So, we need to figure out where we are. We can worry about introductions later.”   
  
“I agree,” Lisa said, offering her hand again. Pelle took it, and she pulled him off the bed. He stumbled slightly, but stayed upright. “Good, you can stand.”   
  
Clasping her hand tightly, Pelle followed Lisa to where the others were waiting. Jan stood up as they approached. He raised a hand in a short wave.   
  
“Jan, this is Pelle,” Lisa said, gesturing towards him. “Pelle, Jan.” Pelle nodded, then turned to the figure sitting on the floor, he knees hitched up to his chest and his face turned away from them.   
  
“Hi,” he said softly, tilting his head. No answer. He turned back to Lisa and Jan. “Worth a try.”   
  
“So, what’s the plan?” Jan asked.   
  
“We take a look around, see if anything looks familiar, then try to work out what this place is from there.”   
  
“How come you’re both so calm about this?” Lisa asked. “I’m terrified.”   
  
Pelle studied her. “You don’t look it,” he smiled.   
  
Lisa held a shaking hand up to the bleak light and smiled back sheepishly. “See? Terrified.”   
  
“It’s going to be okay, Lisa,” Jan said. “We’ll take care of each other. Promise.”   
  
Pelle nodded his agreement. “Let’s go. We’ll split up, and meet back here in five minutes. Don’t wander off too far.” He turned on the spot, chose a direction, and headed off. He soon came to the wall near the bed, and felt his way along it until he found a handle. It turned easily when he tried it, and a door opened. The light outside was brighter than in the room, and he shut his eyes with a hiss. Opening them again slowly, he looked out. A long corridor seemed to stretch for miles either side of him, but it was empty. He crept out, one step at a time, making sure the door didn’t shut behind him.   
  
Five steps down one end of the corridor, then back, and five steps down the other end. He found nothing, and saw no one. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or concerned. He headed back into the room and shut the door behind him. Finding the others, he told them what he’d found.   
  
“This room links into another, there’s a door over there,” Jan said, nodding in the direction he’d just come from.   
  
“I found the window, but it doesn’t open. There are no curtains, it’s just filthy. That’s why it’s so dark in here.” Lisa shuddered. “Do you think this is an abandoned house?”   
  
Pelle shrugged. “The corridor and the connecting rooms suggest a mansion or a hotel, but I don’t know of any near my home.”   
  
They thought in silence for a few minutes. Then, light seemed to come from everywhere at once, as if someone had just switched on the entire building. As it turned out, they had. Pelle spotted light pouring in underneath both the door to this room, and the connecting door to the other room. Footsteps reached them from one end of the corridor outside, quickly growing louder, until they stopped outside the door. They stiffened. The boy on the floor looked up. The door opened, and a voice called to them.   
  
“Dinner is ready.” The owner of the voice turned, and walked back down the corridor, leaving the door open as if inviting them to follow.   
  
Pelle looked at the others, swallowed, then look the lead. He headed for the door. Lisa and Jan followed nervously. Lisa stopped, looking back. The other boy hadn’t moved. She went back over to him and held out a hand.   
  
“Come on. It’s okay,” she smiled. The boy took her hand, stood up, and allowed her to pull him along after the others.   
  
Pelle and Jan had stopped at the top of a long, winding staircase, waiting for them. Pelle smiled when he saw that Lisa had managed to convince the other boy to come with them. They walked down the stairs as a tight-knit group, each of them alert and defensive. They came to a large hallway, intricately decorated with golden flowers, a suit of armour, a few statues, potted plants, and paintings of the countryside. A door stood ajar at the far end, and they started towards it. A dining room came into view, a long table running almost the full length of it, with a high-backed chair at one end and several slightly smaller ones on either side. Floral centrepieces stood at intervals, and five places had been set with silver plates and cutlery. One of them - the head of the table - was occupied.   
  
Pelle, Jan, and Lisa approached the table warily, the third boy following slightly behind. They had no choice but to take the four places that had been set for them - two on one side of the table, and two on the other. Pelle and Jan took the nearest side, while Lisa gently steered the other boy to the opposite seats. They sat, and waited for their host to speak.   
  
“I suppose you are wondering why I brought you here,” he started in a gravelly voice. He didn’t seem to want an answer, so they stayed silent. “Let me explain.” He took a sip of wine, and looked around at each of them.   
  
“Years ago, I had children of my own. Three sons, and a beautiful daughter. They perished in a fire that was started by my eldest son. He was rebellious. He didn’t mean to do it, of course. He just wanted to show off. I understand that. But it caused me great pain to lose them. I have been searching ever since, for children who would replace them. You are those children.”


	2. Chapter 2

They stared in silence, not unwilling but unable to speak.   
  
_ Well, at least he is straight forward _ , Pelle thought.  _ Still fucking insane, though. _ __   
__   
Lisa suddenly stood up.   
  
“You’re crazy!” she shouted. “You can’t keep us here. We’re not your children. Our parents will be looking for us! They’ll call the police!”   
  
“Sit down, and be quiet.” The order was deadly calm, and Lisa did as she was told, shaking with silent sobs. Pelle gave her what he hoped was a reassuring look across the table.   
  
“You will address me as Father. You will do as you are told at all times. Go to bed when you’re told. Eat meals when you’re told. Take your studies in the schoolroom. Do this, and we will get along just fine. We will be happy.”   
  
Jan looked as though he was about to be sick. He suddenly felt very small and afraid. Who the fuck did this guy think he was?   
  
“Why us?” The other boy suddenly spoke up for the first time. The others stared at him.   
  
“Your appearance, of course,” the old man said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You are all the exact image of my children.”   
  
A door at the other side of the room opened then, and a servant wheeled a trolley laden with trays towards them. Their plates were filled with meat and various vegetables, and a small jug of gravy set beside them.   
  
“We will eat in silence. You may begin.”   
  
Pelle was the first to eat. He picked at the meat with a fork, sliced a small piece off, and tentatively put it in his mouth. He chewed for a second, swallowed, and nodded at the others. They ate ravenously.   
  
***   
  
After dinner, they were excused to their room, which they now discovered had two single beds.   
  
“The other room must be ours, too,” Lisa said. “Two in here, two in there.”   
  
Pelle and Jan nodded. “How do we decide who gets which room?”   
  
The quiet boy looked up at Lisa, an almost pleading look in his eyes. Lisa nodded at him.   
  
“We’ll take the other room. You two take this one.”   
  
The boy quickly scurried off into the other room, shutting the door behind him.   
  
“I think he’s afraid,” Lisa whispered.   
  
“Of course he is. We all are,” Pelle said.   
  
“I’m fucking creeped out, guys,” Jan muttered. “This guy shows up out of nowhere, kidnaps us, tells us this freaky story about his dead kids, and expects us to play happy families with him? No, thank you.”   
  
“We’ll figure something out. But we can’t do anything tonight. I bet the door is locked. Let’s just get some sleep. Lisa, try to find out as much as you can about our friend in there. Get his name, at least.”   
  
Lisa nodded and hurried off to the other bedroom. Pelle shuffled over to the bed he had woken up on, and Jan took the one opposite. The lights flickered out, and they were left in darkness.   
  
Pelle had never felt claustrophobic, until now. The darkness pressed tightly around him, almost trying to suffocate him. He missed his own bed, and he missed his family. He sobbed quietly until he fell asleep.   
  
***   
  
Pelle was woken the next morning by Lisa, sitting on his bed and shaking him.   
  
“Wha’?” he moaned, rubbing his eyes.   
  
“Get up. It’s still early. We’re going to try to get out.”   
  
Pelle was alert immediately. “Did you find a way?”   
  
“Not yet. But we have some ideas. This house must be huge. There’s probably an office or study, somewhere he keeps all his important stuff. Like keys.”   
  
“Right. What about your window?”   
  
“Doesn’t open. Probably rusted shut.”   
  
“Alright. Go get Jan.”   
  
Lisa hurried off to the other bed and shook a snoring Jan out of his duvet.   
  
“The fuck? Oh, s’you.”   
  
“Come on. We’re going.”   
  
Jan threw off the blanket and hopped out of bed as quietly as he could. Pelle joined them.   
  
“Where’s the other kid?”   
  
“He’s in our room. I said I’d go back for him.”   
  
“Did you get anything out of him?”   
  
“His name is Tom. That’s about it. I mostly just talked at him until I came up with something useful.”   
  
“Good enough, for now,” Pelle shrugged. “Okay, let’s go.”   
  
They went back to the second bedroom, collected Tom, and stepped out into the dark hallway together. The house was silent. They crept towards the stairs and headed down, stopping when a step creaked and listening carefully. They reached the bottom and turned in the direction opposite the dining room. There were more doors here, and another long hallway. They each took a door, and tried them. Pelle’s opened into a large room with a chalkboard at one end, a large desk, and four smaller desks with chairs attached facing it. The schoolroom. Pelle shut the door again, having no intention of ever setting foot in there.   
  
Tom found a music room, neatly organised into sections - violins and cellos in one corner, a piano near the window, a stack of music stands against a wall, and a harp, tall and golden, standing by itself. Tom shook his head and closed the door, turning to the others. Pelle came to stand next to him, watching silently.   
  
Jan only discovered a small cloakroom, and he sighed, pulling the door closed again with a thud.   
  
They joined Lisa, who hadn’t moved since opening her door. She seemed to be staring at something. They looked over her shoulder into the room, and Pelle sucked in a horrified breath. Their own faces stared blankly back at them.   
  
Pelle blinked. Not their faces, but ones eerily similar. His own long blonde hair and brown eyes were mirrored in the enormous painting on the opposite wall.   
  
Next to him, Lisa was taking in the curly brown hair, thin smile, and kind, hazel eyes that gave her the impression she had been cloned.   
  
Jan’s dark, wavy locks were almost exactly the same length as the boy’s in the picture, and he had a sudden urge to cut it all off. He loved his hair, but now he felt as though it didn’t belong to him, like it had been stolen. He brushed a hand through it absently, looking between the painting, and the three children stood next to him.   
  
Tom hadn’t seemed to realise what they were looking at. If he had, he didn’t show it. He simply looked, as if admiring a piece of art in a museum.   
  
“Beautiful, weren’t they?” said a voice from behind them. They jumped, and spun around to see the old man standing there, watching them quietly. Nobody answered.   
  
“Alexander, Georgine, Gregory, and Ivan. This was painted shortly before the accident.” He stepped towards the room, taking no notice of the children watching him fearfully. He seemed lost in thought, almost forgetting that he had stolen four young teenagers from their families.   
  
“Ivan was the youngest. Barely thirteen years old.” He looked at the small, round-faced boy sadly, the scruffy, blond hair and large, soulful eyes making him appear much younger than thirteen.   
  
“Alexander and Gregory were the eldest. Fourteen and fifteen, respectively. And Georgine, my little girl. A few months younger than Alexander. Her mother was not the same woman as the others’. I regret that very much, but I do not regret her.”   
  
“We’re not them! We never will be!” Pelle shouted, suddenly furious. “We won’t play along with your sick fantasy. We want to go home.”   
  
The old man turned to him and smiled. “This is your home now, Alexander.”   
  
“My name isn’t - “   
  
The old man held up a hand for silence. “As I said. You are my children now. You must take their names, as you have taken their appearance.”   
  
“No! My name is Pelle, I have a mother and father, a younger brother, a home probably far away from here. I’m not staying.”   
  
“That’s a shame.” The old man nodded to his servant, who had appeared in the hallway behind them. “We shall see how you feel in a few hours.”   
  
The servant grabbed Pelle’s arms, pulled them behind his back, and dragged him off down the hall. Pelle kicked and squirmed as Lisa screamed and Jan tried to run after him, but he could not break free and he disappeared into the dark house. The screams that followed later would echo in the children’s ears the whole day and night.   
  
The old man turned to the three remaining children. “I see you are intent on exploring the house today. Very well. You may look around, grow accustomed, get comfortable. Please do not touch anything valuable. You will begin your lessons tomorrow.” He turned, then stopped. “I suppose you will be wanting something new to wear. You’ll find closets in your rooms. Pick out anything you like.” He walked away. Lisa and Jan watched him go, Lisa clasping Jan’s hand tightly. Tom examined a loose thread in the carpet.


	3. Chapter 3

Jan awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of low moans and shallow breaths coming from the other side of the room. He sat up slowly, trying to see through the blackness. He just made out a shape lying awkwardly on the other bed, and padded over softly.  
  
“Pelle?” he whispered, reaching out a hand to touch the other boy’s shoulder. He felt something sticky, and the contact caused Pelle to cry out through gritted teeth.  
  
“What the -? Hold on. I’m going to get Lisa.” He was back within seconds, Lisa close behind him. She knelt beside the bed, Pelle’s face barely visible, but the pain was clear. He’d been hurt badly.  
  
“If only we had a light,” she sighed. She stroked Pelle’s hair softly. “What happened?”  
  
Pelle took a deep breath, trying to muster up what little energy he had.  
  
“He… whipped… me,” he managed, his voice hoarse and weak.  
  
Lisa’s breath caught in her throat. Jan’s jaw dropped.  
  
“Holy _shit_ ,” he whispered. “That psychopath!”  
  
Pelle’s breathing evened slightly, and he relaxed under Lisa’s gentle touch. “I’ll be… okay. Just need… sleep.”  
  
“Do you want me to stay?” Lisa asked.  
  
Pelle nodded, and Lisa shifted so that she was marginally comfortable on the floor. Jan brought her a pillow and the blanket from his bed, and she smiled at him gratefully. Laying down, she took hold of Pelle’s hand and ran her thumb over his knuckles. They both drifted off soon after, and Jan kept watch over them the rest of the night.  
  
***  
  
Breakfast the next morning was tense and quiet. The air was almost crackling with the fury of the four children. Pelle had limped down the stairs supported by Jan and Lisa. It had taken them almost twenty minutes to reach the bottom. Tom had gone ahead in case any of them tripped and fell, and by the time they made it, they were seething. As soon as they were out of earshot, Lisa exploded.  
  
“How could he? How _dare_ he?!”  
  
“Lisa…” Pelle started.  
  
“He just sat there! Like nothing had happened! Like he hadn’t just beaten the shit out of you for wanting to go home!  
  
“I’m okay, Lisa.”  
  
“No, you’re not! You came back half dead!”  
  
“She’s right, Pelle. We have to get out of here before he kills one of us,” Jan spoke up.  
  
“I know. But what can we do? That freakish servant keeps popping up out of nowhere, and he’s strong, too. I wrestle in school, and I couldn’t escape him.”  
  
“We’ll figure something out. Either way, I’m not doing anything that psycho wants.”  
  
The others nodded their agreement.  
  
“Let’s go upstairs and start on a plan,” Lisa suggested. “We’ll deal with the consequences of not going to class later.”  
  
Two hours later, they still hadn’t gotten anywhere. It seemed all the windows were either locked or stuck, and most of them were too high up to climb out of even if they had managed to get one open. Jan had been brave enough to try the front door, only to find that that, too, was locked. He swore when he noticed a second lock, a deadbolt, out of reach near the top of the door.  
  
“There must be a phone here, somewhere,” Lisa said. “We can try to find it and call for help.”  
  
“Good idea,” Pelle nodded. “I’ll take a look around tonight.”  
  
“Absolutely not,” Jan scowled. “You’re not going anywhere like this. I’ll go.”  
  
Pelle sighed. “Fine.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
They were interrupted by the servant slamming the door open.  
  
“You are late.”  
  
“We’re not going,” Lisa growled. “Not while Pelle is hurt.”  
  
“That does not matter. You must attend your lessons.”  
  
“No,” Jan said defiantly. “We’re staying here.”  
  
The servant eyed them for a few more seconds, then turned away and shut the door.  
  
“What the hell was that about?” Jan asked nervously.  
  
Lisa bit her lip. “I don’t know. But I don’t want to find out.”  
  
Tom suddenly tugged Lisa’s sleeve, looking fearful. Lisa put an arm around him.  
  
“It’s okay, I won’t let him hurt you.”  
  
“We may not be able to stop him,” Pelle said. He stood up, staggering slightly, and limped towards his bed. He was suddenly exhausted. Laying down on his stomach, he closed his eyes and tried to think. If they found a phone, they could call the police. But none of them knew where they were. His parents, maybe. Just to let them know he was alive. They must be frantic by now. And his brother would be terrified. He realised he was crying, and buried his face in the pillow. Tom, Lisa, and Jan had already noticed, and they settled onto his bed, huddling together protectively.  
  
“Pelle?” Lisa nudged him gently.  
  
“I’m sorry, I was just… thinking about my family.”  
  
“You said you had a brother. What’s his name?”  
  
“Anders. He’s ten years old. I’m supposed to be there for him, to look after him. He must be going crazy. We have to find a phone, call the police or something. They should be able to find us if we tell them about the old man and his kids.”  
  
“I think you’re right,” Lisa said, squeezing Pelle’s arm. “There can’t be many old, rich men who lost four children in a fire around here. Wherever ‘here’ is.”  
  
Pelle sat up. “Let’s do it. Screw the old man and his butler. The faster we start looking, the faster we can get out of here. They won’t have time to do anything else to us.”  
  
They scrambled off the bed, a new determination setting in, and hurried towards the door. Pelle and Jan looked out, and, seeing that the corridor was empty, led Lisa and Tom down the hall in the opposite direction of the staircase. There were a few more doors here, one of them being the main entryway to Lisa and Tom’s room, and next to that, a bathroom. Pelle longed for a shower, to soothe his aching back and scrub the grime of the last few days off, but it could wait. There were more important things to do.  
  
The last door, at the furthest end of the corridor, was locked. This must be it. They looked at each other, their eyes sparkling.  
  
“I can pick this lock,” Pelle said. “I learned from… someone.”  
  
“Who?” Lisa asked curiously.  
  
“It doesn’t matter. Do you have a hair pin?”  
  
“I always keep spares, for emergencies,” Lisa said, slipping a hand into her pocket and pulling out a long, thin bobby pin. “I think this qualifies.”  
  
Pelle took the pin, and a few minutes later, the door swung open.  
  
The room was largely empty, save for a few bookcases, yet another suit of armour, a desk, and, thankfully, a phone.  
  
It was old fashioned, with a circular dialling mechanism. Pelle had seen them in old movies, so he knew how to use it. He picked up the receiver, cold and heavy, and put it to his ear. A low buzzing sounded from the other end. He let out a sigh of relief - it was working. He quickly dialled the emergency number, and waited.  
  
“Which emergency service do you require?”  
  
“Police.”  
  
“Please hold.”  
  
Lisa clutched at Jan and Tom’s hands and held her breath, keeping one eye on the door.  
  
“Police, what’s your emergency?”  
  
Pelle spoke urgently, knowing that time was not on his side.  
  
“I’ve been kidnapped. There are three others here, too. We’re in some big mansion, I don’t know where, but there’s this old man and his servant, he wants us to live here with him. Please help us!”  
  
A sigh came from the person on the other end.  
  
“Look, kid. We don’t have time for pranks, okay? We’re very busy here, doing very serious work. Go back to your video games, or whatever it is kids are doing these days.”  
  
“No, wait! My name is - “   
  
“Don’t waste your breath. And don’t call us again.”   
  
The dial tone hummed at Pelle mockingly, and the receiver almost slipped from his grasp. He lowered it back down and looked at the others, not quite knowing what to say.   
  
“They… they thought it was a joke. He didn’t even listen to me.”   
  
“Fuck,” Jan muttered, patting Lisa’s head as she buried herself in his shoulder. Tom leaned into her, looking dejected.   
  
“Shit. We’ll have to think of something else. I don’t know my mother’s number, I always had it saved on my…” Pelle stopped. “My cellphone! Why didn’t I think of that before?”   
  
“I think he took them,” Jan said. “I had mine with me when I left my house, but when I woke up here, it was gone.”   
  
“Mine, too,” came Lisa’s muffled voice. Tom nodded.   
  
“I only have one phone number memorised, but…” Pelle hesitated.   
  
“What is it?” Jan narrowed his eyes.   
  
“He’s bad news. He went to my school, but he got kicked out for dealing drugs. His number was all over the bathroom walls. Everyone knew it by the end of their first year.”   
  
“What makes you think he will help us?”   
  
“We’ll pay him. We’ll take whatever we can from here when we leave, and he can have it. He’ll do anything if he gets something out of it, even a rescue mission.”   
  
“Okay,” Jan nodded. “Call him.”   
  
“Children!” a voice called from the stairs. “Come down at once, please.”   
  
They glanced at each other, then hurried out of the room, Pelle closing the door softly behind them.   
  
The old man was just coming to the top of the staircase when they approached. He eyed them suspiciously. “What were you doing down there?”   
  
“Bathroom,” Lisa said quickly.   
  
“All of you?”   
  
“We were helping Pelle,” Jan explained. “Cleaning his wounds.”   
  
“Ah, are you feeling better now, Alexander?”   
  
Pelle swallowed. “Yes, thank you.”   
  
“Good. Join me for lunch.” He turned and went back down the stairs, the children following sullenly behind.   
  
“So, have you accepted your places in my household?” the old man asked as they sat down.   
  
Jan and Pelle glared, Lisa huffed, and Tom shifted uncomfortably in his seat.   
  
“I’m going to take your silence as a ‘no’. That’s fine. It will take some time. You will settle in eventually.”   
  
They ate lunch silently - fish and potatoes in white sauce - then were escorted by the servant to the schoolroom.   
  
“You will not miss lessons again. I will bring you here myself every day until you learn to be punctual.”   
  
They sat at the small desks with instructions to take out the books and pens inside.   
  
“We will be discussing the works of Shakespeare today. Has anyone read anything by him before?”   
  
Pelle snorted. “You mean ‘Romeo and Juliet’? Fuck, no.”   
  
“I will not have that language in my classroom!” the servant snarled. “Come here.”   
  
Pelle’s grin faltered, and he stood up slowly. He walked to the front of the classroom and looked up at the man that seemed to tower above him.   
  
“My name is Mr. Murdoch. You will either use my name or ‘Sir’ when addressing me. There will be no talking back, no fighting, and no swearing in my class. Or you will be punished.” He picked up a long stick from beside his desk. Pelle gulped and took a step backwards. Mr. Murdoch reached out and caught his wrist, forcing Pelle’s palm upright.   
  
“Don’t!” Lisa screamed. “Don’t hurt him, please!”   
  
“Silence!”   
  
“It’s okay, Lisa,” Pelle said, not taking his eyes off the cane.   
  
Mr. Murdoch grinned, and raised the cane. The _crack_ shocked everyone into silence for the rest of the lesson.


	4. Chapter 4

“You have to stop provoking him,” Jan said as they left the classroom an hour later.   
  
“I know, I can’t help it,” Pelle replied, rubbing his hand. “I was always a little shit in school. Never liked teachers, especially ones who thought they could do what they liked.”   
  
They headed back upstairs, where Pelle ran his sore hand under the cold tap, and Lisa raked through the closets to find something new to wear.   
  
“I’m fed up of these clothes,” she complained as she pulled out piles of silk dresses and flowy skirts. “They stink, and they’re getting itchy.”   
  
Tom pulled at his own clothes and nodded. He got up and started searching through a chest of drawers. One drawer was full of neatly folded shirts, both casual and dress. He picked out a dark blue short-sleeved shirt. Taking off his t-shirt, he pulled on the clean clothes and turned to Lisa. He spread his arms and turned in a circle. She applauded.   
  
“Very nice, Tom. It suits you.” She smiled, then looked away. “Only… don’t get too comfortable, okay? Don’t forget, we’re prisoners here.”   
  
Tom nodded. He picked up a violet coloured blouse and a black skirt, and handed them to Lisa.   
  
“Try these,” he said. “I think they would look nice.”   
  
Lisa stared at him. She had forgotten he sometimes had a voice. She took the clothes. “Alright, then.”   
  
Tom turned away as she changed, and she tapped him on the shoulder a few minutes later. She gave a twirl, the skirt flowing outwards and settling back around her knees as she stopped.   
  
Tom returned the applause with enthusiasm. They grinned at each other for a few minutes, feeling much, much better.   
  
“How come you don’t talk much?” Lisa asked.   
  
Tom shrugged. “Shy,” he said simply.   
  
“Oh. Well, you don’t have to be shy around us. And we can help you. If you’re scared or lonely, you can just tell us, and we’ll look after you. Okay?”   
  
“Okay.”   
  
“What are you two up to?” Jan asked, barging into the room uninvited.   
  
“Getting some new clothes. Our old ones are starting to smell really bad.” Lisa sniffed at Jan, and backed away. “You could do with a change yourself.”   
  
Jan lifted an arm and inhaled deeply. “What are you talking about? I smell fine.”   
  
“Disgusting,” Lisa said, shaking her head. Tom giggled.   
  
“Fuck!” Pelle’s voice shouted from the other room. Lisa looked towards the door.   
  
“Is he okay?”   
  
“He keeps forgetting about his hand, and trying to pick things up,” Jan explained. “It’s really hurting him.”   
  
“I think I saw a first aid kit in the bathroom. I’ll go and get it, and we’ll bandage his hand until it heals.” She scurried away and came back carrying a large box.   
  
They found Pelle sitting on the bed, his hand resting limply on his lap, glaring angrily at the deep, red welt across his palm. Opening the box, Lisa dug out bandages and a soothing cream to dull the ache. She took Pelle’s hand gently, ignoring his wince, rubbed the cream in, then wrapped a bandage tightly around it.   
  
“There. Now you won’t be able to hurt yourself.”   
  
“I’m sure I’ll find plenty of other ways to do that,” Pelle laughed. “Thank you, though.”   
  
“Any time.”   
  
“Guys, listen, if we’re gonna try and call this guy of Pelle’s, we’ve got to do it now. He could go back to the office later and we might not get another chance today. I’m not sitting through another lesson with that psycho servant.” Jan ran his hands through his hair, glancing at the door. “Who knows when he’s going to come up here?”   
  
“You’re right.” Pelle stood up. “Come on.” He led the way out of the room and back down to the study. “Lisa, you wait out here in case anyone comes up. Tom, go into the bathroom. Pretend to be washing or something. Come out if you hear anything and help Lisa distract them. Jan, come with me and stand at the door.”   
  
They all agreed, and Tom went into the bathroom and turned on a tap. Lisa stayed where she was, while Pelle and Jan entered the office, which was still unlocked. Jan shut the door behind him and leaned against it, listening intently. Pelle picked up the phone and dialled the number burned into his memory by countless hours of skipping classes in the bathroom. Just when he was starting to lose hope, there was a click, and the call connected.   
  
“Hello?”   
  
“Øystein? It’s Pelle.”   
  
“Pelle? Where the fuck have you been? Everyone’s looking for you, man!”   
  
“Someone grabbed me. I’ve been locked up in some creepy, ancient house with some creepy, ancient man for days. You gotta help me.”   
  
“How am I supposed to do that? I have no idea where the hell you are.”   
  
“I know, but there’s other kids here. They need help, too. I don’t know much, only that this guy lost his kids in a fire, and now he wants us to be them. They look like us, man. I mean,  _ exactly _ like us. It’s scary.”   
  
“Alright. I’ll call the guys. We’ll figure something out. Don’t worry. We’ll get you out of there.”   
  
“Thanks. Listen, don’t tell my mom you spoke to me, okay? She’ll only freak out more and probably threaten the police or something, you know what she’s like.”   
  
Øystein laughed. “Yeah, I do. No problem. I gotta go. Hang in there, okay?”   
  
The line went dead, and Pelle put the phone down. Jan was staring at him wide-eyed.   
  
“What the  _ fuck  _ was that? You said he was some drug dealer that went to your school, but that sounded like you were best friends or something.”   
  
Pelle sighed. “I’ll explain later. Let’s go.”   
  
Lisa jumped slightly at the door opening, but relaxed when she saw Pelle and Jan.   
  
“Come on, let’s get back to the room before they find us.”   



	5. Chapter 5

In the bedroom, Jan rounded on Pelle.   
  
“Start talking.”   
  
“What’s going on?” Lisa asked.   
  
“He’s not telling us something. The way he talked to this guy… it sounded like they knew each other.”   
  
“Okay, okay.” Pelle raised his hands. “I do know him. We were friends in school. He saved my life. I was getting beaten up by some other kids, and he fought them off. I actually died for a few minutes. He put three of them in the hospital. He’s a good guy, really, he just doesn’t know when to stop. He’s dangerous, but he’s protective of his friends.”   
  
“Why didn’t you tell us that before?”   
  
“I don’t know, man. I just… He got me into trouble a lot. He taught me how to pick locks so we could break into people’s houses. I held drugs for him whenever there was a locker search at school. I got suspended a few times for that. My mom threatened to send me away to boarding school if I didn’t sort myself out. So, I stopped speaking to him. He thought I’d ratted him out, so he started watching me. Following me. I tried to stay away from him, but he was always there. Until he got thrown out, that is. I told him it wasn’t me, that my mom made me stop. He believed me eventually. We became friends again after that.”   
  
“Jesus, Pelle!” Jan turned away from him, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This guy sounds real bad. I don’t know if we want his help.”   
  
“It’ll be fine. He’s going to call some friends, and they’ll work this out. He’ll find us, we just gotta hold on a few more days.”   
  
“I’m with Pelle,” Lisa said firmly. “I don’t like the sound of this friend of his, but he’s all we’ve got. I just want to go home.”   
  
Tom nodded and pointed at himself.   
  
Jan sighed. “Fine. He’s got until the end of the week, then I’m breaking out of here.”  
  
***  
  
Two days later, Jan had received a mark from the cane, for passing notes in class. He’d then been forced to stay behind and clean each of the desks. It had taken him three hours. He left the classroom muttering under his breath.  
  
“At least now I know how you felt,” he told Pelle when he returned. “This fucking hurts.”  
  
Pelle gave him a sympathetic look. “It’s a good thing we kept those bandages around.” He’d taken his off the day before, and his hand was almost back to normal. It didn’t sting anymore, at least. He helped Jan wrap his hand.  
  
“I’m so tired of this bullshit,” Jan huffed. “When is your friend going to get us out of here?”  
  
“Just give him some time. He doesn’t know where we are. He’s probably doing research right now.”  
  
Lisa and Tom entered just then.  
  
“Guys,” Lisa said. “It’s almost time for dinner. We should go down.”  
  
The others nodded, and they trudged wearily out of the room and down the stairs. The old man watched them as they took their places, then spoke.  
  
“I noticed something rather strange, today. I went up to my office, and the door was unlocked. I always keep it locked when I am not using it. I wonder how it could have been open?” He looked at each of the children, waiting for one of them to speak. His gaze settled on Pelle, and Pelle glared back.  
  
“I broke in,” he said defiantly. “I was trying to climb out of the window to escape.”  
  
The old man tutted. “That is a shame. You will be punished most severely for this.”  
  
“I was there, too,” Jan piped up. “I was going to go with him.”  
  
“Oh, my sons. Why would you want to run away? Don’t you like it here?”  
  
“No, we don’t. You’re sick. We want to go home. To our _real_ parents.”  
  
Tom raised a hand slowly, but Pelle gave him a look. Tom dropped his hand again, looking down at his lap. Lisa took hold of his hand under the table and squeezed.  
  
The old man rang a small bell on the wall behind him, and the servant entered.  
  
“They are to spend the night in the crypt. Take them.” He gestured towards Pelle and Jan.  
  
The servant took hold of their hair, and dragged them up out of their seats.  
  
“No, wait!” Lisa shouted.  
  
“Would you like to join them?”  
  
Tom looked fearfully at Lisa, his eyes round and pleading.  
  
Lisa swallowed, and shook her head. She fell silent.  
  
“We’ll be okay, don’t worry,” Jan said as they were marched out of the room.  
  
“Mr. Murdoch,” the old man called. The servant stopped and turned.  
  
“Tie them up.”  
  
Mr. Murdoch smiled gleefully, and nodded.  
  
“Go back to your room. There will be no dinner tonight.”  
  
Lisa and Tom stood silently, and left, clutching each other tightly.   



	6. Chapter 6

Jan and Pelle were back to back, their arms tied behind them around a large stone pillar. It was pitch black in the crypt. Claustrophobia had taken over Pelle almost immediately, and he was breathing hard. Jan gripped his hand tightly.   
  
“It’s okay, Pelle. Just breathe. We’ll be alright.”   
  
Pelle shuddered as he took a deep breath, his chest heaving.   
  
“I’ve never… been afraid before. Not… like this.”   
  
“Never? Not even when you were a kid?”   
  
Pelle shook his head. “I used to… crawl through caves. Climb trees. The dark never scared me.” His breathing slowed, and his head cleared slightly. “Never even had nightmares.” He chuckled softly. “That’s probably about to change.”   
  
Jan nodded. “I know how you feel.”   
  
They jumped as a rat scuttled past them. It sniffed at their feet, then moved on.   
  
“Fucking  _ rats.  _ Gross,” Jan spat. He shifted, trying to work some feeling back into his arms. His entire body was numb, and tingled when he moved. “How much longer do you think we have?”   
  
“I don’t know. It feels like we’ve been here forever, but it could have only been half an hour.”   
  
“Fuck.”   
  
They sat in silence for a while, listening to the darkness, focusing on each other’s breath and trying to not think of what else could be down here, besides rats.   
  
What seemed like an age later, the door opened.   
  
“Are you ready to come out now?” the old man asked calmly.   
  
Pelle hissed, and Jan spat on the floor in response.   
  
“Tomorrow, then. Come, Ivan. Georgine.”   
  
“Yes, Father.”   
  
The door clanged shut and the heavy bolt slid into the latch.   
  
Jan and Pelle sat, frozen in horror.   
  
“Shit. He got Lisa and Tom.”   
  
Pelle shook his head, willing himself not to be sick. “No. We don’t know that.”   
  
“They fucking called him  _ Father. _ ”   
  
“They could be faking.”   
  
“No. We’ve held out this long. Why now?”   
  
“Maybe because we’re locked in a fucking tomb? They don’t want to join us, so they joined him.”   
  
“No. No, I don’t believe it.”   
  
“Well, there’s nothing we can do now, so we might as well get comfortable.” Pelle leaned back against the pillar and closed his eyes. Despite the situation they were in, he was soon asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

A knock at the door surprised the old man. He wasn’t expecting visitors. He sent the servant to answer it.   
  
“Good afternoon, sir,” came a young man’s voice. “I’m awfully sorry to disturb you, but I have an urgent letter from City Hall. May I speak to the master of the household?”   
  
“Wait here,” the servant said gruffly. He disappeared, leaving the door ajar.   
  
While he was gone, the boy took in several details. The size of the door, the locks, a quick mental map of the main hallway. Staircase on the left. A door at the back. Dining room, perhaps. These big, old houses were all pretty much the same, and this boy had seen inside his fair share.   
  
The servant reappeared, followed by a tall, elderly man.   
  
“What is this about, young man?”   
  
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know, but City Hall insists that it’s urgent, and they need to see you right away.”   
  
“Let me see the letter.”   
  
The boy handed him a sealed envelope, stamped with the City Hall logo. The old man opened it and read quickly. He frowned as he did so.   
  
“I see. Very well. Mr. Murdoch, my coat, please. I shall be back shortly.” He disappeared into the house while his servant took a long overcoat off the rack near the door. He also picked out a hat, and an umbrella, just in case.   
  
“Georgine, my darling,” the old man called. Lisa appeared at the top of the stairs.   
  
“Yes, Father?”   
  
“I must run an errand. I will not be long, but until I return, you are in charge. You are to stay in your room, and do not go anywhere near the crypt. Those boys are dangerous. I don’t want you getting hurt. Tell your brother, too. I will see you soon.”   
  
“I understand, Father. Farewell.”   
  
The old man smiled, and hurried back to the front door, where his servant and the messenger boy were waiting.   
  
“I’m sorry, dear boy, I almost forgot.” He pulled a few notes out of his wallet and handed them over.   
  
“Thank you very much, sir. Have a nice day!” The boy grinned, and ran off down the path to his bike. He mounted it and cycled away, disappearing around the corner and out of sight. He found a gap in a hedge a short distance away from the house, and stashed the bike there. Then he continued on foot, to a waiting car.   
  
“Well?” the driver said.   
  
“He took it. He’s leaving now.”   
  
“Good. Let’s get ready.”


	8. Chapter 8

The house was quiet when they picked the locks and stepped through the front door.  
  
“Pelle?” Øystein whispered. The two boys went further into the house, splitting off in different directions. Øystein headed for the stairs and went up. A girl appeared not far from him.   
  
“Hey,” he said softly.   
  
“You’re Pelle’s friend.”   
  
He nodded. “Where is he?”   
  
The girl let out a sob. “He’s… he’s in the crypt.”   
  
“Fuck. Do you know where that is?”   
  
The girl nodded. “I can show you. Wait here.” She went back into the room she’d just come out of, and came back with a boy. He stood just behind her, peering around her shoulder at the stranger.   
  
“I’m Lisa. This is Tom.”   
  
“My name is Øystein. Come on, let’s go find Pelle.”   
  
Down in the underground tomb, Pelle and Jan were suffering. They were dehydrated, and the air was dry and dusty. Their hands were scratched and bloody from rubbing against the pillar, and a chill had set in. They shivered and coughed, barely able to stay awake, but they never let go of each other’s hands. Whenever one of them went limp, the other shook it until they regained their grip.   
  
They barely noticed as the bolt slid back and the door creaked open. Light flooded the room, and Pelle looked up.   
  
“Leave us alone,” he moaned. “Please.” His head dropped forwards again.   
  
“Pelle? It’s me. Øystein.” He took the steps two at a time, and a second later, he was kneeling in front of Pelle. He lifted Pelle’s head gently. “Pelle. Wake up.” He tapped the boy’s face.   
  
“Øystein?” Pelle whispered. “Oh, God. You’re here.”   
  
“Yes, I’m here. It’s okay. We’re gonna get you out of here.”   
  
“Who else is here?”   
  
“Faust is with the others upstairs. Jørn is waiting in the car.”   
  
“Check on Jan. He hasn’t responded in a while.”   
  
Øystein moved around to the other boy and pressed two fingers to his neck. Finding a pulse, he let go and sighed.   
  
“He’s okay, Pelle. Unconscious, but alive. I don’t think we have much time, we have to go now.” He moved to reach between them and untie their hands, but a shout made him stop.   
  
“Øystein! I think they’re coming back!” Faust called in a panicked tone.   
  
“Shit,” Øystein muttered. “Get the others back upstairs, and hide with them. I’ll stay here. Don’t forget to shut the door.”   
  
Faust didn’t reply, but swung the door closed and bolted it, then grabbed both the children and darted off upstairs to the bedrooms. They made it inside just as the front door crashed open.   
  
“That boy, he tricked us!” the old man stormed. “I don’t know why, but he will pay for it.” He took off his coat and hat, hung them up, and went straight for the door to the crypt. Pulling it open, he went inside. Øystein shuffled backwards into the shadows and hid behind a large statue of an angel.   
  
“Alexander! Have you thought any more about your position in my household?”   
  
Pelle looked up wearily, squinting against the harsh light. The old man came closer, giving Pelle a hard look.   
  
“Yes, Father. I understand now. I accept my place.” Pelle lowered his gaze to the floor. Øystein’s jaw dropped.   
  
_What the fuck is he doing?_   he thought.   
  
“I’m very happy to hear that, Alexander. What does your brother say?”   
  
“I don’t know, Father. He’s asleep. He has been for a while.”   
  
“Hmm. Well, I can’t let him come out until he gives me an answer.”   
  
“Please, Father. I think he’s sick. It’s so cold in here. Let him come with us.”   
  
The old man thought for a second. It wouldn’t do for the boy to die down here. He could always send him back to the crypt again if he stayed stubborn.   
  
“Very well. He can come back with us. You will convince him that accepting his new life is in his best interest.”   
  
Pelle nodded. “Yes, Father.”   
  
The old man cut the ropes securing Pelle and Jan’s hands, and helped Pelle to his feet. Jan did not move. Pelle wrapped his arms around the old man tightly.   
  
“Thank you, Father, for helping me.”   
  
The old man was taken aback by the hug, and did not notice Øystein behind him, holding a piece of the angel statue that had broken off. Pelle watched as Øystein stepped forward quietly, then, as Øystein raised his hand to strike, Pelle let go. Øystein lashed out just as the old man began to smile. The rock caught him on the side of his head, and he slumped forward, unmoving. Pelle, no longer holding onto anything for support, fell backwards. He groaned, sat up, and crawled over to Jan.   
  
“Jan, wake up. We’re leaving!” He shook the other boy hard, and Jan began to stir.   
  
“Pelle…?” he slurred. “S’going on?”   
  
Pelle took Jan’s arm and slung it around his neck, Øystein doing the same on Jan’s other side. Together, they lifted him to his feet and heaved him up the steps towards the door.   
  
“Going somewhere?”   
  
They stopped, almost at the top of the stairs, as a figure stepped in front of them. The servant grinned at their horrified faces.   
  
Øystein dropped Jan’s arm and roared, charging at the man. He tackled him to the floor, the servant hitting his head hard on the marble. He pushed Øystein off him as if he weighed nothing, and got back up.   
  
“Faust!” Øystein yelled. “Get down here!”   
  
The other teenager sprinted down the stairs, leaving Tom and Lisa watching from the balcony. He ran at the man and leapt onto his back, wrapping an arm around his throat. Gasping, the servant bucked him off, sending Faust crashing to the floor. Faust lay still, dazed.   
  
“Damn, what the hell is this guy made of?” Øystein growled. He pulled out his phone and dialled as he dodged a fist aimed at his head. “Jørn, we need back up! Get over here!” He hung up and ran at the servant again. As he did so, Faust hurled himself at the man from behind. They caught hold of him together, each pinning down one arm. Faust twisted until the shoulder popped, and the man howled. He threw Øystein down again and swung his good arm around to Faust, wrapping his fingers around the young man’s throat, just as another person came barrelling through the front door. The newcomer stopped at the sight in front of him. He took in the scene carefully - Øystein lying on the floor, breathing hard and nursing a bruised elbow, and Faust gasping for breath and trying to pry the man’s fingers from his throat.   
  
“Let him go,” Jørn said, his voice like acid.   
  
“Or what?” the man laughed.   
  
Jørn pulled out a knife, and flicked it open. He raised it, and dared the other man forward. The servant dropped Faust, who sucked in a deep breath and burst into a fit of coughing. Øystein crawled over to him and helped him sit up. He glanced over to the door of the crypt, where Pelle was still waiting with Jan, who was becoming more alert. Looking up, he saw Lisa clutching Tom, who was half hidden in the folds of her shirt. He wished they would go back to their room until this was over - he didn’t want the two innocents to see what was about to happen. He turned his attention back to Jørn and the servant.   
  
They circled each other. The servant had reset his shoulder. He took a step forwards, his stance defensive. Jørn did the same. He lashed out with the knife, and his fist a second later. The servant ducked, narrowly missing the punch but gaining a scratch from the knife. He hissed at Jørn, and kicked out, swiping Jørn’s legs from beneath him. Jørn swore, and rolled aside as the servant leapt at him. He slashed at the man’s arm, the knife cutting him deeply. He cried out, clutching the cut, trying to stem the blood flow. Jørn kicked at his stomach, winding him, then brought his foot down onto his face, breaking his nose. The servant screamed through gritted teeth, then passed out.   
  
Jørn dropped the knife and rushed over to Øystein and Faust.   
  
“Are you guys okay?”   
  
“Fine,” Faust choked out. “Go get the kids.”   
  
Jørn sped off up the stairs as Øystein and Faust ran to help Pelle and Jan.   
  
“Can you stand on your own?” Øystein asked Pelle as he took Jan’s arm. Pelle nodded. He let Faust take over with Jan and went to meet the others.   
  
“Pelle!” Lisa cried as she ran across the hall. She threw her arms around his neck. “I thought you were going to die in there. I’m sorry I didn’t help you.”   
  
“Don’t be. You did the right thing. If he’d thrown us all in there, Øystein never would have found us.”   
  
Lisa sobbed into his shoulder, then drew back and wiped her eyes.   
  
“About what you said…” Pelle started hesitantly. “Earlier. You called him ‘Father’. Why?”   
  
“If he thought we were still against him, he might have locked us up, too. And we were scared. We felt we didn’t have a choice but to go along with it.”   
  
“That’s what I thought,” Pelle smiled. “Jan… well, he was afraid. But it doesn’t matter now. We’re going to be okay.”   
  
Tom appeared next to Pelle, and held out a hand.   
  
“Thanks, Pelle,” he said quietly. “I’ve never been so scared in my life, but we’re okay, because of you.”   
  
Pelle shook the boy’s hand, then pulled him into a hug. “I’m glad you’re safe,” he whispered.   
  
“Guys, can we do this later?” Øystein called. “I think he’s waking up.”   
  
The servant had started to stir, groaning softly.   
  
Pelle, Tom, Lisa, and Jørn darted towards the door. Faust lifted Jan off the floor and carried him, so that he and Øystein were able to keep up. They made it to the door as a group, stepping out into the bright sunlight and slamming the door on the awful scene inside. Pelle grinned.   
  
“I thought we’d never get out of there. You know, I tried calling the police, and they hung up on me. They thought I was a prank caller.”   
  
“Those morons. Who the fuck would joke about something like this?” Øystein said angrily. He pulled Pelle towards him and held him, momentarily forgetting they were not alone. “Thank God you’re okay.”   
  
Pelle sighed happily, then cleared his throat and pushed Øystein away. “Uh, we should get going. I don’t want to hang around here any longer than we have to.”   
  
Jan groaned and stirred in Faust’s arms, as if to emphasise the point.   
  
“Alright. Faust, take the kids to the car. I’ll grab the bike and follow behind.” He watched them leave, the three youngest clinging to each other, Jørn and Faust flanking them.   
  
He was about to follow, when the door creaked open behind him.   
  
“You,” a voice growled. He spun around. “You cheated us. You’ve destroyed my master’s plans. You’ve stolen his children. You will pay for this.”   
  
“They weren’t his children! He stole _them_ !” Øystein rushed forward, intending to shove the man back into the house. The servant raised his hand at the last second, the knife glinting in the sun. He caught Øystein and thrust the blade upwards, through the young man’s ribs.   
  
Øystein gasped, his eyes widening. He gripped the man’s shoulders, trying to push him away. His knees weakened, and he sunk to the ground.   
  
“NO!” A scream came from behind him, and the servant backed into the house and locked the door. Pelle ran forwards, catching Øystein as he slumped.   
  
“No, Øystein, please…” Pelle sobbed. “Don’t…”   
  
“Sorry, man,” Øystein coughed. “I’m sorry.”   
  
“Don’t, it’s not your fault. You’re going to be okay. I’ll get the others.” He made to stand up, but Øystein caught hold of his arm.   
  
“Stay,” he said quietly. “Please. It’s okay.” He coughed again, blood pouring from his lips. “Take care of those kids, okay?”   
  
Pelle nodded, tears streaming down his face. “I’m going to take care of you, too, you idiot.”   
  
Øystein shook his head. “No. There’s nothing you can do.” His breath became shallow, and he closed his eyes.   
  
“Øystein!”   
  
“What the fuck?!”   
  
“No!”   
  
More shouts came from the end of the pathway, but Pelle didn’t hear them. He lay his head on Øystein’s chest, listening to the quickly fading heartbeat. Hands grabbed him from both sides and tried to pull him away, but he refused to move. The body beneath him stilled, and Øystein let out a final breath.


End file.
